Crossing the Border
by J.Rease
Summary: "What are you doing in my car?" "People were shooting, what did you want me to do, stand in plain sight and wait to be hit? I'm Rachel Berry, by the way, and you are?" Prompt Fill. See warnings. Pezberry. Extreme AU.


Title: Crossing the Border  
Author: J Rease  
Rating: M  
Summary: "What are you doing in my car!?" "People were shooting, what did you want me to do, stand in plain sight and wait to be hit? I'm Rachel Berry, by the way, and you are?"  
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine, but the execution of this fic is…  
Warnings: Violence, excessive drug use, illegal activity, lesbians, smut.

Author's Note: I'm flattered by every single review I receive. But I have noticed as a trend that most of my reviews say things like sequel please and write more. All my oneshots can't be chapter fics you guys... But I love how much you guy. love my fic. This one got away from me. I started writing and got lost in this plot. What was meant to be a quaint little oneshot turned into this crazy long winded descriptive pile of naughty, dirty, criminal fun. Oh well, no apologies. Please, Read and Review.

Original prompt: Santana is a criminal of some sort and somehow draws Rachel into her lifestyle, through kidnapping, maybe as a hostage or Rachel being involved in a crime. When they do end up developing feelings Santana brushes it off as a Stockholm syndrome type-deal, but Rachel insists it's not.

Crossing the Border  
For the awesome, planetcyanide (aka Shade Asylum)

She gets lost in the clouds whenever she's on her back like this. _**Whoa**_. That sounded dirty. She chuckles to herself, her hand bouncing jubilantly on the flat of her abdomen. Her eyes feel heavy, tingling and thick with the swell of her foggy intoxication. But her cheeks are high and rosy, the feeling of complete relaxation is rolling over her body in pleasant waves; it worked the kinks out of her muscles and the tension of stress from her shoulders. The joint being passed between the three of them is a short one; it's fat and rolled in double ply hemp paper, expertly twisted by her own nimble hands. Brittany takes her last pull and passes it blindly to her. Santana takes it, never letting her eyes drift away from the fluffy clouds that seem to litter the sky like big bags of pastel pink cotton candy.

_Of course she's hungry. _

She drags slowly on the joint, pulling the smoke as far down as it can go without her gagging (_**wanky**_, she laughs out loud again), before holding it and finally releasing; letting the orange rings drift and mingle with the colors of Technicolor sky above her. Santana tokes on it again, this time inhaling it hard enough to feel the smooth burn in her lungs and she sputters, coughing out and breathing in her own second hand smoke. If she wasn't high before, she definitely is now. She reaches over Brittany to continue the rotation, and she notices the subtle hint of fruitiness left on her tongue.

"What do you call that, Q?"

Santana doesn't look at Quinn for her answer; she's enjoying the colorful sunset unleashing in front of her eyes. Quinn's voice is tight around the smoke that's settling in her throat.

"I call it mango kush... new strain. Took well to my soil treatments. We still have four new strains to test-"

"Yea, San, Quinn said that they're all inspired by my favorite lip smacker flavors. It's totally sweet- her making weed specifically designed for me."

Santana doesn't have to look over to see the blush on Quinn's cheeks, nor does she have to see the kiss she's sure Brittany planted on Quinn's lips. Santana is high enough not to care about their PDA, and Quinn passes the joint and continues talking.

"Yea, we still have to test and name the rest, the THC potency is off the charts. Exotic strain, nice after taste. I'm cross breeding some others, now, but those hybrids will take time. I already have four distributors lined up."

Santana nodded, taking the joint from Brittany again, she pulled in and inhaled. They did this often; went to the roof to test new product. Quinn's garden was up here (her legal food and herb garden, not the totally illegal one two floors below basement level), and they had a giant comforter sprawled out on the ground, random cushions propped under their heads as they sky gazed. Santana let the effects of the weed overtake her. She got lost in the crimson and tangerine of the sky, trying to describe the kind of smoke this particular strain offered; after all that was a part of her job in this trifecta. She managed security and she helped market the product. They all had their part in this business.

It had been four years since this started. Four years ago Russell Fabray gave his daughter a large sum of money to go to college (which was really code for "money to keep Quinn quiet about his whores"). Being the douchebag he's always been he didn't bother to notice that Quinn had gotten full rides to multiple colleges. Quinn, an aspiring botanist, invested her money in marijuana seeds and Santana asked if she could partner (since Q was being a pussy about selling what she grew, Santana had to do a bit of convincing to get her to get into drug activity), since Santana would need money for bills while she went to school. Turf wars and people with big scary guns were Santana's forte... she was from Lima Heights Adjacent after all- she knew the ropes.

Quinn grew, Santana sold nickel and dime until Quinn developed her first unique strain. She called it LucyQ (that cocky bitch). It wasn't until last year that Brittany joined them. Back in high school, the three of them were a force to be reckoned with; that was one of the only things that hadn't changed among them. Santana dropped out of college freshman year, and got into the more lucrative weed production and distribution business. The mean streets of New York were still scary, but the money made up for it tenfold. With money came enemies, and things were getting a bit more serious. More people wanted a cut of their product, and they would do anything to get it exclusively.

Brittany and Quinn had started dating secretly in her sophomore year (of course Santana knew, shit was obvious), and when Brittany mentioned her low wage aerobics instructor job not cutting it, Santana and Quinn found something easy for her to do. Brittany's job was to manage the daily operation of their money laundering business. She was the head of P.O. (heh, the name was her idea) People Of Talent Incorporated, their nonprofit organization. Brittany led the dance classes, and in her spare time, Quinn taught a few art and acting classes. Santana usually covered business and music, but with her running around so much lately, there was a guy named Schuester teaching the kids the basics of accounting and glee. It was just a front, of course, their growing plant and bagging facilities were on premises, but with all the illegal activity, they'd found a way to stay right with that bitch Karma by giving an art outlet to disadvantaged youths.

"San, it's on you..."

Brittany nudged her out of her nostalgia, and passed the small roach to her to finish off. She took a quick hit, letting the smoke billow into the darkening sky.

"So S, what do you think of the smoke?"

Quinn sat up on her elbow and looked over at Santana. The sun was almost completely gone from the sky, and the street lights danced like diamonds in her peripheral vision. She shrugged.

"Colors are brighter. I feel relaxed... but not sleepy. Hungry but not starving. Contemplative. Happy overall. Smooth pull. But it packs a punch. I like it."

Quinn nodded and fell back onto her pillow.

"So what were you thinking about?" Brittany asked, snuggling into Quinn's side with the beginning of the night time chill. Santana shrugged, taking the last drag on the joint before putting it in the ash tray. Her eyes focused on the peeking stars of dusk, and she feels like being on the rooftop is as close to flying she'll ever get.

"I was thinking about what happens next. We're pulling in money, flying under the radar... but a lot of people don't like who we sell our product to. Kinda makes me want out."

"Out of the business? Why? Once the legalize marijuana we can legally sell to dispensaries. We can get out of the back door business and-"

Santana rolls her eyes and interrupts Quinn.

"Yea, in a few decades. It's just... more and more sellers want our supply. You're growing shit that will monopolize the market. They don't like who we sell to, lot of them want to use force to knock us off top-"

"San, you're being paranoid. We play it safe we have nothing to worry about."

"That's bullshit. You get to run around playing hippy with Brittany-" Brittany looked hurt, "…sorry, Britts. Quinn, you don't realize how many times I've had to use Snix." (So what she named her gun, shut up), "We can't hope that drug dealers are going to be patient for too long. We're young. We pulled enough money together to keep this place running. Why not get out now?"

Quinn sighed. This was a normal conversation between them. Brittany usually ignored it, trying her best to keep the peace without actually choosing a side.

"San, if you get out, where does that leave us? I can't deal with the security stuff. I can't meet with potentials and schedule drops. All I want to do is grow. And last time I checked, that's illegal too."

Santana rolled her eyes.

"So...if I found you a replacement, you'd be alright?"

Quinn shrugged.

"We need you, San. _**I need you**_. But if you want out, I won't force you to stay."

Santana nodded. Maybe the time was now.

000 0000 000

Weeks passed and Santana hadn't done a damn thing to find a new career. She attributed it to having bills to pay, but in reality, she didn't know what she wanted to do with her life. When she dropped out of school, she'd only worried about paying rent and not getting shot. Now, she had money in her bank account, a bullet proof vest, and a great car. But the only time she had was dedicated to selling weed... she'd never had the time to dream. Santana sighed. This was the kind of shit she shouldn't be thinking about when she was making a drop. She checked her rear view mirrors before she pulled her black Camero into the parking lot of Puck's pool supply company, and jogged over to the side door.

She'd known Puck since Lima. When they all graduated, Puck fled to L.A. to push his pool cleaning business. Somehow he'd wound up in New York, with a national front business and a pretty smooth running weed operation. Puck was into street dealing, he got a lot of Quinn's new product first, and he tested the market for anything they tossed his way. She had samples of all five of Quinn's new strains in her glove compartment, and she needed to negotiate prices with Puck before she handed over merchandise and made weight dropoff plans.

Finn let her in when he came to the door, throwing her a weird, constipated baby look as he led her down to the main floor. The usual group was around, bagging and tagging things- weighing and labeling things. When she made it to Puck's corner of the floor, he was talking to some extremely tiny brunette with no sense of style. He argued with her until she stomped away in frustration and Santana went over to him, amused.

"Long day, Lopez, what'd you bring me?" Puck was putting together something that looked like it went on the back of a scuba diver costume. Santana scoffed.

"Damn, can a girl get a hello?"

Puck put down the contraption, and made his way over to Santana- his arms outstretched. She ignored the gesture, and went over to sit at Puck's desk.

"So who's the midget in argyle?"

"That's the little sister... well half-sister. You know my dad; pretty sure I'll be meeting more of his offspring before I die. Her mom wants us to get to know each other. Rachel's high maintenance, so she's being a pain in my ass. _ So, what'd you bring me?_"

Santana went over the normal conversation they had about prices per pound. Puck mostly low balled her until they settled on the price she'd put out there originally. They were making it back to her car, the envelope of down payment cash in her inside jacket pocket. By the time they got to the door, she noticed Puck's sister leaning against her car, talking way too fast (without breathing) into her cell phone. Before she could tell the dwarf to move, she heard the booming cackle of a bullhorn.

"This is D.E.A. Detective Sue Sylvester! Everyone remain where you are!"

Everyone immediately scrambled. Finn was behind her in an instant, throwing smoke bombs out blindly into the parking lot. Santana got low as the fog lifted, feeling her way past trucks and toward her car. Within minutes, the sounds of gunfire rang in her ears. _**Shit. Shit. Shit**_. She could pull out Snix from her under arm holster and join the shootout, or she could find her car and disappear before the cops searched the place. She came upon the familiar rear end of her car and made her way into it. She pulled open her door slowly and slipped into the driver's seat. She started the engine and pulled out, hoping she wouldn't hit anything in the mess of bullets and fog.

She managed to hop the curb and pull off without alerting the police, and she kept driving until she started seeing signs for New Jersey. _**Shit**_. If they saw her…if they knew she was there. Shit. She slammed to a stop at the light, banging her palms onto the steering wheel.

She had to remind herself to breathe.

When the light turned green, she was calm. She had phone calls to make. But she first had to get out of the city, lay low. If Puck got arrested, if he didn't have an evacuation plan, the feds could be looking for her too. They hadn't set up a perimeter if she hadn't been stopped, so it was probably an impromptu drug tip to the popo from some idiot who was sending cops after the wrong kinds of criminals. _Weed wasn't even a real fucking drug_.

Shit.

She was panicking. There were proper channels to go through to make sure Quinn and Brittany stayed out of trouble. Warrants would wreck everything for them right now. She leaned over in her seat to grab her cell phone, tapping on the keys as she shot the text to Quinn. She slowed to a stop at the next red light, and reread what she had typed.

_Going home to visit family. Mi Hermana is sick. Bbs. _

Santana hit send, and drummed her antsy fingers on the steering wheel. Quinn would know what it meant. Especially since she didn't have a sister. She'd stop production. She'd hide the service elevator entrance to the growing rooms. They'd teach at POT Inc and everything would look normal.

"You shouldn't text and drive, you know."

Santana's head nearly banged against the ceiling as she jumped in her seat. She turned to face the noise.

"What the fuck are you doing in my car!?"

Horns began honking behind her, so Santana faced forward and put her foot on the gas, her eyes shifting between the road and the rear view mirror. Puck's little sister sat straight up in the seat, and tried fixing her hair.

"People were shooting, what did you want me to do, stand in plain sight and wait to be hit? I'm Rachel Berry, by the way, and you are?"

Santana turned onto the turnpike and pressed down on the gas petal to merge with the flow of traffic. Her eyes shifted between the road and her rear view as Rachel clicked her seat belt on.

"You don't have to know who I am. You're about to be dropped off.".

Rachel scoffed.

"We just left the scene of the crime, together. If you you're running, I won't allow you to drop me off to be found by the police. I just found out my idiot half- brother is selling marijuana and actually expects me _**not**_ to tell my mother. And on top of it all, I'm stuck on the run because an arrest would ruin my record and I can't be famous from prison. So. Wherever you're going, I am too.".

Rachel actually hurumphed. Santana would be annoyed if she wasn't impressed by the ratio of words coming out of Rachel's mouth to the amount of breaths she took. She ignored the rant and gripped her steering wheel a bit tighter.

"How old are you, midget? I don't want to add kidnapping to the list of offenses."

"Don't call me that. And I will have you know that I am twenty one years old. How old might you be?"

Santana sighed. It would have been easier if the dwarf was an actual child. She could have called her mother to pick her up or something. Santana sighed again. She pulled over onto the shoulder and turned off her engine. She put her keys into her pocket before getting out to pace.

_**Shit**_.

The word just began to describe the crap situation she was in. She kicked at the gravel. She heard her door shut, and Rachel got out, her hair whipping around her face. Santana was starting to freak out.

"Alright look, short stuff. We are driving to Mexico. I have cash. We lay low and take the long way until I hear that things have calmed down. Don't talk to me. Just chill and go for the ride. Text your mom whatever you need to without telling her anything specific. Then give me your phone."

Rachel looked at her momentarily, she bit her lip before finally giving in- tapping quickly onto the screen of her phone. She handed it over to Santana and Santana took out her own phone and tossed them both over the bridge they were parked on. Rachel made it to the edge by the time their cell phones made a splash. Santana smirked as the little diva stomped her foot on the concrete.

"That. Was a very expensive cell phone.".

Santana shrugged, smirk still in place.

"You wanted to come along. We can't be traced. I'll get a burner when we are far off the grid. Get in the car. And if you piss me off in any way, I'm stuffing you in the trunk."

Santana sauntered back to her car and waited for the miniature Barbra Streisand to get into the passenger seat. They had a really long ride to go. Rachel waited approximately three minutes after Santana pulled onto the road before bursting at the seams with her question.

"Can I at least know your name?"

Santana rolled her eyes, answering Rachel only because she had this nagging feeling that more questions would follow if she didn't.

"Santana. But when this is over, we never met."

000 0000 000

Santana was totally wrong. Answering any questions the girl had would only lead to more talking. Rachel just wouldn't shut up.

"Well, I have been participating in pageants all my life. Since I was three months old. My mother, Shelby, made sure to immerse me in the arts. She has been supportive since as long as I remember. Classes, tutors, music instructors. I am going to be up on that stage someday. I can just feel it. I feel everything so... Greatly. I want everything so much-"

"Right. Look, Hobbit, I know it seems like I'm paying attention to you right now, but I am actually distracting myself with thoughts of gagging you and shoving your extremely under developed body into the gas tank."

Santana reached over and turned on the radio, fiddling with the channels until she found a news station. Rachel's mouth had finally snapped shut, and Santana breathed a sigh of relief. It was getting dark, and she didn't know if it was safe to be spotted at a hotel. She was tense. Her shoulders were haunched from driving and she kind of wanted to sleep. They were driving by wooded areas, and there were plenty of dirt shoulders covered by trees they could park on. She drove a bit longer before finally finding a cul de sac by the main road.

"You think this is safe? Parking on the side of some dark road?"

Santana could feel the knot starting at the top of her spine.

"Look. I don't know who is looking for us. If I am going to be driving, I need to sleep. And until I know I'm not going to be plastered over America's Most Wanted, we are sleeping in my car."

It was then Santana remembered that she had dime bags of weed in her glove compartment. Smoking would definitely ease her nerves right now. She bent her hand into her cluttered back seat floor and searched until she found the slim box of rolling papers. She tapped the button on her glove compartment and hit another button to release the hatch to the hidden storage department. Her fingers danced over the different colored bags, and she picked one that would get her where she needed to be. She closed both doors before sitting back in her seat.

Rachel watched incredulously as she began breaking up the weed over a magazine that was tucked into the flap of the sun blocker. She made quick work of spreading the green into the paper, ignoring the blatant glare Rachel was giving her from the passenger seat. She rolled from one end to the other, licking the light line of adhesive as she went, until she got to the other end.

"Are you really going to smoke that? In here? The effects of second hand smoke in small spaces is almost as bad as smoking-"

"Oh my god do you ever shut up? And yes. I am going to smoke weed_** in my car**__._ You're seriously giving me a headache and I need to relax. So let's me get my smokes on and keep quiet, yentle."

That annoying humph noise made its way to Santana's ears again, and she scoffed as she lit her joint, pulling on it deeply before blowing the smoke into Rachel's face.

"And besides, second hand smoke is for cigarettes. When you inhale weed smoke, you get a contact high."

Rachel rolled down her window immediately.

"Oh come on! Puck sells weed. You're telling me you've never tried it? Everyone has tried it at least once in their lives."

Rachel shook her head vigorously from side to side.

"I have known Noah for less than a year. And smoke is smoke. There is no difference in clouds of smoke in the lungs. Or the effects it has on the voice. I have never tried marijuana and I doubt I ever will."

Rachel waved the air in front of her before she folded her arms across her chest and looked out of the window. Santana shrugged.

"Suit yourself. And fyi, young know it all, cigarettes have tobacco and other toxic ingredients. Weed is a plant produced by nature. It is scientifically proven to cure pain and honestly, this shit soothes the soul so don't talk about it until you educate yourself."

Rachel sighed.

"It's a drug, Santana. It's the reason we are sleeping on the side of the road. Whatever it is you're smoking is illegal. And I find it ridiculous that you can sit here and smoke that knowing it's the reason we are hiding from the police."

Santana took another pull before smirking.

"It's not a drug. Its another way for America to manipulate the market. They hand out prescription pills and liquor and make weed the bad guy. It's more like an herbal remedy. And the reason we are sleeping on the side of the road is actually because of your brother's stupidity and lack of common sense; he knows better than to get caught. And what I am smoking is called fruity pebbles. It makes you tingle. You should try it. It might help you pull out that giant stick you have shoved up your ass."

Santana put her joint between her lips before grabbing behind her blindly to pull a bottle of water out of the case she had on the seat (She still can't gather how Rachel hid in the back among the horde of shit she had thrown back there). She unlocked her door and got out. She stretched her limbs and took another drag on her joint. She felt restless, and the weed was giving her the kind of high that made her want to move around. Santana felt her heart gushing in her ears. She felt the beginning of cotton mouth creeping up on her just as she took her first sip of water. It was still light enough outside to see her hands in front of her. She wiggled her fingers, taking her final drag before putting out her joint under a boot heel.

Rachel was still sitting in her car, her arms crossed impatiently over her chest. Santana leaned into her open car door and snapped her fingers.

"Yo- are you hungry?"

000 0000 000

They argued for twenty minutes on where to eat. Santana just wanted something full of meat and fast, but Rachel was a vegan (she'd only mentioned it twenty times already), and she needed to get the brat something kosher to eat. Whatever. They wound up inside a supermarket, walking the aisles together since they had no other means of communication. After using the bathroom, Rachel found the salad bar and all but squealed. Santana had migrated a few feet away to the hot food station. She spotted hot dogs and did a happy dance herself before getting three. They wandered the lanes for other things they'd need for the drive, and wound up back on the road in spite of the late night. Santana had her hand fisted around a hot dog as she drove, Rachel sat beside her picking at her salad, her eyes boring holes into the side of Santana's head.

"Do you know what that hot dog is made of?".

Santana sighed.

"What Berry?"

"_My name is Rachel._ And hot dogs are made of all the meat left on the butcher's floor."

Santana took an exaggerated bite of her hot dog, as she pulled into an abandoned parking lot near the interstate. Rachel quickly ended the conversation, picking at the leaves in her container. Santana polished off the last of her hot dog before reclining in her chair. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her arm. Rachel was rustling around grocery bags and sipping loudly on her bottled water. Everything sounded so loud to Santana's ears. Her head felt light and when she breathed in, it felt like she got all the best smells. She was still floating, sated and finally relaxed from her quick smoke earlier.

She hadn't heard her name on the radio. The further she drove south, the less she heard of New York. If the cops had seen her leave, they were probably interrogating Puck for information. She was in deep shit, but at least she wasn't being checked for yet. Or Rachel, for that matter. She didn't know if going back was a good idea, but she wasn't sure Mexico was either. Santana closed her eyes and tried to doze off.

She woke later to the sounds of soft singing. Her radio was playing at low volume, and the voice overlapped the Journey song playing over the speakers. She didn't move. Instead, Santana peeked from beneath her bent elbow to see Rachel. The girl was curling strands of her hair around her finger, head bopping to the tune as she sung along. The dwarf sounded pretty damn good.

"Nice voice, short stuff."

Rachel jumped slightly, before she turned to Santana with a humble smile.

"Thank you. Hopefully I didn't wake you."

Santana looked around outside, noticing the confusing hue of the sky through her tinted windows. It was too light to be night time...but too dark to be day. She shot a glance at her dash and was offended by the early hour.

"Nah...sun is about to come out. Maybe we should hit the road."

Rachel nodded. Before looking over at Santana. She had this weird look on her face, like her train of thought had been interrupted by a single question.

"Do you sing? You have this raspy quality to your voice that would probably carry over."

Santana pulled her seat handle and lifted up her chair.

"Yea I smoke cigars. And I love singing. Well, I used to. I don't really get the chance to sing anymore."

Rachel stared out at the windshield.

"Why did you stop?"

Santana shrugged.

"I just didn't have time for it anymore."

"If you loved it, why not make time for it?"

Santana looked over at the wide eyed and bushy tailed Rachel Berry and realized that she didn't really have an answer to that.

"I'd rather make money instead. And for future reference, Hobbit, don't ever touch my radio."

000 0000 000

"I'm bored. Let's play a game."

Santana shook her head. They'd just left their third rest stop of the morning. Rachel had a weak bladder and she kept complaining about stretching her legs.

"That sounds like torture. Let's not. Find something to do that doesn't involve getting on my nerves."

Rachel scoffed.

"There is nothing to do. I mean, you threw my phone into the river, you refuse to stop anywhere that doesn't involve the bathroom or food. You also refuse to speak to me. What else am I supposed to do?"

Santana wasn't paying Rachel any attention. Her eyes focused on the squad car that had been tailing them for the last few miles. The cop was trying to be inconspicuous, but Santana had tried to lose him a few blocks back and she couldn't shake him. They were driving through no town USA, and Santana had hoped it was small enough for them not to be noticed.

They couldn't get pulled over. She was carrying a concealed weapon, there was weed in the glove compartment, and she had a sneaking suspicion that there was an APB out on her car. She sped up a little, trying to put distance between her and the cop. She heard the sirens blare moments after. The cop sped up and pulled behind her. Santana gulped. He couldn't search her car without a warrant. Santana sped up to get out of sight and unsnapped her gun holster from beneath her jacket.

"Rachel, put this in the glove compartment. But don't lean forward to do it okay?"

Rachel surprised Santana by doing what she was told. She pushed the gun into the hidden compartment. The midget was hyperventilating beside her, but she managed to do it without dropping her gun. Santana let the car slow to a stop as she pulled over. The cop car did the same and she watched the burly officer get out of the car and asses the situation.

Officer Dick tapped way too hard on Santana's window. She cringed, before rolling down her window enough for the officer to see her face.

"Yes officer?"

"Were you aware that one of your tail lights were out?"

Santana could have breathed a sigh of relief had it not been an obvious indicator of her being guilty.

"I just wanted to let you ladies know. Usually, when one of the bulbs blow, they all blink out."

Santana nodded.

"Thank you sir."

"You girls have a nice day."

Santana sighed when he was out of sight, and she let her head rest against her seat for a moment before turning to Rachel.

"You alright?"

She nodded her head.

"I will be. My heart feels like it's going to break out of my chest."

"Yea, mine feels like that too."

Santana took a deep breath and pulled back onto the road. Rachel was gulping mouthfuls of water.

"Could you not drink an entire case of water? I would rather not stop ten more times to take you to the bathroom."

Rachel stopped immediately, fisting her hands around the water bottle solemnly.

"Sorry. Its a tick. My mom used to bring me water when I was sad, or upset, or anxious. It seems to calm my nerves. Got to the point where I don't know when I'm sad...or just thirsty. Shouldn't you be used to this? Illegal activity, violence, police?"

Santana pulled back onto the highway, letting Rachel's question sink in. Usually, she just had to knock some heads together. Every once in a while she was forced to use Snix on a couple kneecaps. Sometimes she would pistol whip a guy or two. Selling weed was all about establishing turf. Good product sold itself. People wanted certain strains more than others, but her job wasn't the most dangerous by any standard.

Santana prepared herself for a lot of what ifs. But in the time she's been doing this, she's never had this kind of problem. She has never had to deal with the cops. She hasn't done anything major. Rachel must have gotten used to Santana ignoring her, because she was only scowling slightly at her face, waiting for a reply. Santana sighed.

"Why do you think I'm a criminal?".

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"You are a criminal because you sell marijuana-illegally."

Santana gripped her steering wheel tighter.

"So...if the law told you that you were no longer allowed to do anything on stage, would you just quit? Give up?" (It was offensive the amount of personal information Rachel could relay to her in the two dozen conversations Rachel had basically had by herself the last two days).

Rachel's head cocked to the side contemplatively.

"That would never happen-"

"I didn't ask you that, mini babs." (Random Rachel fact number 42).

"Doesn't change the fact that it would never happen-"

"You wanted a conversation, right? Answer the question."

Rachel deflated.

"IF being on stage suddenly became illegal, I would never set foot on stage again."

Santana laughed out loud.

"So you would just give up your dream? You would blindly follow the law? No protests, no resistance?"

"The law is the law, Santana. Given, your hypothetical situation would never happen in real life-"

"You know that weed is legal in some places, right?"

"Then, why not go there to sell it?"

"No demand. I'm not some two bit criminal with no morals, so quit thinking that. I give back. I do things to balance out. I run a business. I get the weed to who wants to sell it. Weed shouldn't be illegal. Period. When have you heard of people overdosing on marijuana? When have you heard of people driving while under the influence of Mary Jane?"

Rachel interrupted.

"Well, never really. But what about the brain cells it kills? What about the lack of productivity a person has while high?"

Santana smirked.

"Actually, I get more shit done when I smoke first. And as for the other crap, everything has its draw backs. But you've never tried it. You don't know what it does. You're taking what those stupid above the influence commercials spew literally and you're talking about something you don't know about."

"You are absolutely right, Santana. I don't know what you're talking about."

Moments passed in silence, before Rachel began to chew her bottom lip.

"So what did you want to be when you grow up? What would you be if you weren't a drug dealer?"

The term seemed like a cross between an insult and the truth; Santana shrugged.

"I was a pretty good cheerleader. I loved performing. I guess when I was younger I just wanted to be famous..."

Santana kept her eyes on the road.

"That was your dream? The thing you wanted more than anything?"

Santana thought about it for a moment. And let her mouth say the words aloud for the first time.

"If I had to choose, I guess I would be a song writer."

Rachel was clapping her hands together, jumping in her seat.

"You must let me hear you sing something you've written!"

"That's not happening, dwarf. I'll sing for you when you smoke with me."

Rachel looked over at Santana incredulously.

"That's not fair. Don't peer pressure me! Smoking would ruin my throat."

"If you do it all day every day, maybe. It might just add a little raspiness to your singing voice."

"No thank you. I guess I will forever go without hearing your voice."

Santana shrugged, turning into a rest stop.

"Guess so."

000 0000 000

Santana didn't know when it happened, but suddenly Rachel wasn't as bothersome as she had been before. The little midget had actually started keeping Santana _company_. After stopping to use the bathroom, they were on the road again, their conversation dragging on with the open highway.

"So what does it feel like to be high?"

Santana smirked.

"Why do you want to know so bad?"

"Well, you speak so highly of it. If you ask me, it seems like you're a bit...dependent upon it. But you insist that somehow it makes everything feel better. I just want to understand your logic."

Rachel quirked her head sternly. The little twerp looked like she was agreeing with herself to be the bigger person. Rachel studied her as she drove, while Santana noted places to stop for food.

Santana couldn't stop her eyes from shifting between the road and Rachel's very tan legs.

"I don't want to be your study in human behavior, E.T., it just feels nice. Can't explain it. Maybe you should try it."

"Come on, Santana, humor me."

Santana rolled her eyes. She couldn't help the slight quirk at the corner of her mouth (come on, Rachel looked kind of cute begging her for more information). Santana gave in, and made the exit off the interstate, looking for signs for a motel.

"I don't use it to cope. I smoke because I enjoy the feeling. I don't get high I..._elevate_. My body starts to buzz and I can close my eyes and drift away. I don't go away to any wacky crazy world, I just explore the feeling of existing in this world with extreme appreciation for everything."

Rachel was nodding. Santana pulled into the parking lot and turned off her engine. She leaned in her seat to face Rachel. Funnily enough, no one had ever asked Santana what she enjoyed about smoking. Even with Quinn and testing product, she'd only been asked her opinion about the smoke. Never about what the weed did for her. Rachel turned over to look at Santana. Eager to ask another question.

"So...you do it just because it makes you feel happy?"

Rachel put her hands between her thighs, rubbing her exposed palms slowly together.

Santana nodded. The sun was setting at the opposite end of the parking lot, dewing the colors inside her car. Warm oranges blushed over Rachel's cheeks, plum reds cascaded over Rachel's pouty lips. Rachel licked them. Santana felt her skin on fire, the car seemed hot to her. Rachel shivered, but Santana couldn't attribute it to a chill. She answered Rachel's question.

"Yea... It makes my body feel giddy. Like all my nerve endings are having a party. I like to do certain things when I smoke. Little things can be entertaining. You can get lost in thought or fixated on a feeling. Usually, I take baths. Or eat- everything tastes amazing high. Or read. And God the sex-"

Santana looked away. She cleared her throat. All that conversation did was make her want to smoke. And have sex. She opened her car door. The warm air leaked in like a mockery to her feverish skin. Santana tried to save face.

"Look, Rachel. I needs me a shower. So I figure we can rent a room till the morning. We can get back on the road by sunrise."

Santana needed a _cold_ shower. She must have been suffering from cabin fever. The dwarf's short skirt wasn't as ugly as the weird unicorn top. The knee socks and shoes were a bit naughty school girlish...but she couldn't help the twisting in her gut when she kept wondering about what Rachel's legs would feel like against her her hands.

Santana reached into the back seat, pulling out a grocery bag and boutique bag with her. Rachel took a few things from the back seat of her car as well, and shut her door to follow quickly behind her. She paid for the room, the only one they had left; a full bed and shifty bathroom at the end of the parking lot. Santana left Rachel to shower, letting the water ease the stiffness of driving from her body.

She turned off the water and wrapped the towel around her, going into the room and waiting for Rachel to disappear with her own bags.

She dried off quickly, tugging on shorts and a tank top she'd bought at a rest stop in Tennessee. She knotted her hair into a ponytail and tucked herself under the left side of the full bed. She dozed off just as Rachel emerged from the bathroom, the light spilling onto the floor at all the places the bedside table didn't touch. Rachel turned out the bathroom light, and then the bed side lamp before Santana felt warm feet touch the back of her calves.

It was dark in the room, the curtains blocked out the colors of dusk, and Rachel took a moment to adjust before finally settling next to Santana. Santana felt Rachel's body heat, the girl was laying behind her, mirroring her position while barely touching her. Santana was fully awake, and suddenly, her body was tense, too close to bare legs and soft skin.

"You make me want to do things I've never thought about doing."

Rachel had barely whispered it. Santana gulped quietly. She could hear how loudly her heart was beating. Every thump in her chest reiterated one thing: Turn around. Turn around. Turn around. Santana stayed still, letting her breath answer the air in pants, her chest hollow as oxygen rushed from her lungs.

"You just like all the things I stand for; you're only interested because you think I'm some dangerous criminal...maybe you have stockholm syndrome."

Rachel laughed out loud. It was throaty and short, cut off by movement. Santana stayed still. Rachel Berry was temptation...she could resist.

"I know what I want...and I want everything too much."

Rachel's knee bent behind Santana's. The touching of skin made hairs stand on Santana's neck. Rachel's hand barely touched Santana's arm as she dragged it downward. Santana listened to the thumping in her ears. She turned to face Rachel, Santana's hand grabbed for the hand that had been stroking her arm. She fell into the hazelnut brown eyes gleaming despite the dark, their faces close together as they stayed stuck in the moment. Santana could have kissed her, she could have given in and had sex with the younger girl, but something felt off.

"_Sleep_."

A small look of disappointment crossed Rachel's features. The nod Rachel gave her was minute. She turned away from Santana and Santana fell back against her pillows...regretting not seizing the opportunity the moment she tried to shut her eyes to sleep.

000 0000 000.

They had coffee the next morning. It was awkward, sipping iced coffees in her car, getting ready to get back on the road. Rachel was terrifyingly quiet, pulling absentmindedly at the draw string of her extremely short shorts (Santana should have stopped her from buying them; since they were driving her crazy). There was a new tension in the car when they pulled onto the highway.

"I think I want to smoke with you."

Santana nearly choked.

"Nuh uh."

"I'm serious. I've been thinking about all the things I've never done. I don't want to say that I've never tried it. If anything, smoking weed could be a page out of my memoirs. And I can even say that I was method acting. So can we? Smoke, I mean."

Santana looked toward the road, and quickly to Rachel.

"Okay. We'll smoke later. But no geeking out."

Rachel nodded but stayed quiet. Moments later, she began nibbling on her bottom lip.

"Santana, what's that mean?"

Santana rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she switched lanes.

"It means no erratic behavior. If you get the giggles find a way to calm down. Smoking weed is not a pass for embarrassing yourself."

Rachel nodded toward no one, and Santana kept driving.

000 0000 000

It was finally night. Santana found an old warehouse to park her car behind. They were somewhere in Texas. The rusted old building was on the edge of a dusty sprawl of land, tire tracks and footprints long wiped away. She parked her car near the closest streetlight to the property, and let the tepid orange light blink into the inside of her car.

Santana had let Rachel pick from her stockpile in the glove compartment. The red bag had Rush stamped on it, a strain Santana had yet to try herself (those bitches had tried it the day she went to drop samples off at Puck's). Rachel had actually helped Santana clean her car earlier at a gas station, managing to organize everything she had in her back seat into her trunk. She and Rachel had pushed the front seats forward, and were laying side by side with their backs against the locked doors.

Santana was rolling a joint. The air conditioner blasted while she broke up the weed, the sticky red buds spongy between Santana's fingers. Rachel watched with rapt attention, noting how Santana curled with her fingers and tucked with her tongue.

"This, my friend, is a joint. Commonly known as a doobie; or a jay."

Rachel nodded, filing the information away as Santana lit one end of it. Santana inhaled slowly, testing the pull of the new green. The smoke was silky. It glided down her throat like velvet, and she eased out the thick, creamy smoke toward the front seat. The cherry after taste made her want to pull it again, her taste buds craving the husky smoke. She pulled, watching the end of the joint brighten as she let the smoke hinder for a moment, letting it tuft out in small rings before she passed it to Rachel.

She held it awkwardly, breathing deep before pressing it to her lips and drawing back. She tested the feeling, and blew out the air quickly before putting the jay back to her mouth.

"Hold it. Pull it in like your breathing and catch it in your throat. Release slowly."

Rachel nodded, pulling deeper on the joint and sputtering, inhaling smoke as she coughed it out. Santana chuckled.

"Virgin lungs. Coughing means you're doing it right."

Rachel coughed into her elbow, nodding before passing the joint back to Santana. She had an idea.

"Let me give you a shot gun."

She explained to Rachel what it was before pulling on the joint. She took a little more than she usually did before beckoning Rachel with her finger. The tiny girl leaned forward with her hands clasped in her lap. Santana pressed her lips flush against Rachel's and puckered, containing her smoke in a solid stream before passing it to Rachel. Rachel tilted her head, sucking in the blow Santana was pushing into her mouth. When she couldn't breathe any longer, she leaned back, letting out a healthy amount before leaning closer to Santana as she took another puff.

"I think I like smoking this way better.".

Santana didn't admit it, but she did too.

000 0000 000

Santana understood the name. Her body was buzzing and energy rushed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She and Rachel were sitting close to each other, elbows and knees knocking as they stared at the ceiling. There was a layer of fog encasing them, the car locking in all the blow back from their session. Rachel's hand reached out on top of Santana's, and she lifted her tank top before dragging Santana's palm to her chest. Santana let her fingertips dance over the silky cup of Rachel's bra, before Rachel pressed the flat of Santana's hand over her heart.

"Do you feel that, Santana? It's beating so slowly. My chest feels heavy in that comfortable, tired way."

Santana chuckled.

"Yea, your high."

Rachel turned to look at Santana, as she pulled Santana's hand downward, until it drifted toward the hem of her shorts. Santana choked out a battered sound when her fingers dipped under the elastic of Rachel's panties, and into the wet folds of her sex.

"I feel like I'm thumping _everywhere_."

Rachel bit her lip, and Santana pulled her hand out of the heat of Rachel's shorts.

"We can't, Rachel."

Rachel actually pouted. She whined from the back of her throat and arched off the seat before slamming her body down again.

"Why can't we?"

Santana scoffed, turning to look out the window.

"You're Puck's little sister. We barely know each other. This will end up being an experiment. We're high. Do you need more reasons?"

Rachel sighed. Santana watched Rachel's leg twitch (she had a sneaking suspicion that Rachel would stomp her foot if she were standing).

"Being Noah's sister means nothing. I know enough about you to know that I want you. And who says I haven't had this kind of experience before?"

Rachel quirked her brow at that. There was a devious smirk set beneath low lidded eyes.

"And besides... I wasn't high last night. You're making an awful lot of excuses."

Rachel straddled Santana's thighs. Despite the air conditioner being on, their skin stuck at contact. Rachel leaned close to Santana's ear (and shit Santana couldn't move from that spot if she tried).

"Lose your inhibitions, Santana, appreciate what's right in front of you..."

Santana felt her jaw flex. Rachel tugged off her tank top in one fluid motion, the black bra bouncing off her skin like an exclamation point at the end of a sentence. Rachel kissed her neck, her supple lips hitching Santana's breath as the girl sucked on the spot. Santana grabbed Rachel's shoulders and pulled her away.

"Stop."

Rachel pouted again.

"How do I know... How do I know that this isn't because you've been trapped inside my car with me these last few days?"

Rachel looked Santana strictly in her eye when she said her next words.

"I could have left whenever I wanted."

Rachel leaned down to kiss Santana on the mouth, and every nerve on Santana's body wakened. There were residual tingles spreading down Santana's neck in the aftermath of Rachel's lips, and Santana couldn't help the moans tumbling from her mouth as her hands gripped at the flesh of Rachel's sides. Her body was literally on fire, everywhere Rachel touched seemed to ignite.

Rachel's tongue traced over Santana's bottom lip, and Santana growled as her world spun, the ferocity of Rachel's kisses left her breathless. Her body felt overridden with sensations. She could feel the subtle movement Rachel was making on her lap. She felt shivers grip her spine when Rachel's hands tangled in her hair; when Rachel's fingernails scrapped lightly at her scalp. Tremors raked through her body like after shocks, rippling from wherever Rachel touched to the center of her being.

God she was high...and her world seemed to be amplified as Rachel continued.

Rachel squirmed on Santana's lap as she nibbled lightly on her ear. The smoke in the car had dissipated; leaving behind the hazy heat of their movement. Santana pulled her hands from Rachel's sides and unclasped her bra, letting the fabric fall from Rachel's shoulders with a quiet whimper from Rachel's mouth. Santana grappled with her own shirt, letting the material soil the clean back seat of her now spotless car. She brought her hands to cup Rachel's breasts, squeezing them both curiously before letting her lips wrap around a pebbled nipple. Rachel's hips bucked against Santana's, her head rolled backwards as she mewled on Santana's lap.

"God, Santana, _**never**_ stop touching me..."

Something clenched inside Santana at the way Rachel had said it; on the verge of being desperate with her conviction. Rachel's hands cradled Santana's skull as she twirled her tongue swiftly around the nub, tugging each time Rachel let out a noise. Rachel's hips rolled against Santana's as she leaned back, getting lost in the feeling of Santana's tongue against her skin. It was sweltering in the car; recycled air painting heat between them as Santana switched to the other nipple, paying it as much attention as she did the first. She bit down lightly over it and felt Rachel's legs quiver around her thighs.

"Tell me how it makes you feel..."

Santana was curious. If her body was thrumming as much as it was, she was sure Rachel's was too. Santana leaned back against the seat as Rachel's hand gripped over hers again.

"I can feel the path your fingers take across my skin. It feels like someone gave you directions..."

Rachel draped Santana's left hand over the front of her shoulder, and Rachel traced a path downward, slowly to her belly button.

"I can feel the air in my chest, I can smell you with every inhale. My body feels like it's aching..I feel my heart beating, blood racing and I see colors behind my eyelids when you kiss me."

Rachel lead Santana's hand down to cup over her damp shorts. Santana's middle finger traced down the damp material, and Rachel choked out her next description with her eyes closed as she continued to move Santana's hand up and down the length of her sex.

"It feels so overwhelming when you touch me...it feels so intense. But I don't care if I can't take it I just want you everywhere, anywhere. I want you to make the ache go away, but when you touch me you just make it grow."

Rachel took the moment to push her shorts aside, running Santana's finger down the swollen, moist parts of her sex. Rachel coyly opened her eyes before she took Santana's glistening digit and brought it to her own mouth before sucking it down to the knuckle. Closing her eyes again as she let the musky tang settle on her tongue.

"Would you like to try?"

Santana could only nod, her eyes fixated on Rachel's exposed sex. Rachel dipped two of her own fingers downward, circling her clit and pressing the digits against her opening with a quiet whimper. She pulled them away, letting her fingers pass Santana's lips. Santana suckled on the tips of Rachel's fingers, letting the taste settle on her tongue. She felt herself dampen at the thought of tasting her fully, and she grabbed at Rachel's waist and kissed her hard, pressing her hips up as Rachel pushed down. Their bodies were thrashing against each other, and Santana pulled awaywhen she couldn't take the teasing anymore. They readjusted on the back seat. Santana pulled down her shorts and underwear, and soon after she tugged Rachel's down, trying to get as much of her skin as possible in contact with the smaller girl's.

Santana settled between Rachel's open thighs. Her naked sex pressed hotly against Rachel's, and the girl beneath Santana moaned loudly, her jaw slack as Santana rolled her hips flush against her. Rachel's legs lifted when Santana pulled back again, one dainty foot dug into the head rest of the back seat, the other pressed against the head rest in the front. Santana leaned over Rachel, arms buckling with the temptation to grind into Rachel's erotically spread sex.

Santana wanted her to feel every singlr bit of her.

Rachel was biting her lip impatiently as Santana leaned back to unclasp her own bra, letting yet another item fall to the floor. Santana pushed Rachel up toward the car door, letting her fingertips drift from her ankle to the inside her her thigh before settling her weight between Rachel's spread legs. She felt the wet, swollen parts of Rachel press against her own bare skin and she waited. Santana took a steadying breath before dragging upward, the friction pulled the skin around her clit in glorious directions, the pressure of Rachel's slick sex adding stutters to Santana's rhythm.

Santana set a pace, rolling her hips backwards and forwards with Rachel until her hand reached out to grab at the door handle. Her hips shuddered with every stroke, and Rachel's nails dug into the tops of Santana's waist as she continued.

"More, Santana, please?"

Rachel's voice was gruff, sore it seemed from chanting Santana's name with every forward thrust. Santana dragged her body downward, shaking and so close to release that she had to pull away from the contact to stop her pending orgasm. Santana let her fingers zigzag up and down Rachel's slit, coating her fingers with Rachel's arousal before pressing against her entrance. Rachel was staring up at Santana, the orange spilling into the car cast a tranquil glow over Rachel's face. Her eyes were low, red cheeks contrasting against the apricot sifting through her fogged car windows. Santana's body was humming, hot white energy circulating through her veins as she stared at the girl waiting for her to push inside (and God, Santana would take back every insult she'd thrown at the girl had she known a body like hers hid beneath layers of argyle).

She pressed her fingers into the tight, hot, channel, letting her mind make sense of the quivering muscles gripping and pulsating around her fingers. Rachel's hips rose from the seat, the tips of her toes pointed as she pushed down on Santana's hand. She let her thumb graze over her clit, varying speed and pressure as she slowly pumped in and out of her. Rachel was quivering, trying to control the sensations Santana was giving her.

"You're so...mmmm. You're so tight. How do I feel inside you?"

Rachel clenched her muscles around Santana's moving fingers and looked at her without shame. Santana had to stop herself from using her other hand to reach down to her own clit.

"You feel **perfect** inside me."

Rachel leaned forward with Santana's hand still inside her and kissed her hungrily. Santana left Rachel's lips, kissing her way down Rachel's naked shoulder, biting down until Rachel scooted against the locked car door. The insides of Rachel's thighs were wet as Santana kissed downward until she was face to face with Rachel's engorged sex. Rachel was breathing hard, her back was against the car door, her legs pushed far enough back that her one knee touched the handle and the other smashed against back seat. Santana was leaning forward on her knees, ready to submerge herself in the the wet velvet of Rachel's sex.

"Take it... Santana. Eat me."

The fingers still inside of Rachel twitched and Santana buried her face without hesitation; covering every inch exposed to her. Her tongue felt heavy and loose in her mouth, tapping against Rachel's clit lightly; but quickly. Rachel bucked against Santana's moving mouth, she was on the verge of shouting, her eyes rolled into her head, the rest of her body shaking uncontrollably as Rachel's insides fluttered and she fell into the first stages of her climax Santana pulled away and out of Rachel, and Rachel whimpered desperately. Rachel's hips bucked at the memory of Santana's tongue. (Santana smirked, cause it was seriously hot how much Rachel seemed to crave her).

Santana caught her breath, the heat sheening both her and Rachel's body with sweat. She leaned against the opposite car door and pulled Rachel into her lap. Santana pressed her lips to the shell of Rachel's ear before whispering.

"Sit on my face."

Rachel sat back, a fleeting pause of nervousness crossed her features before she sat up and let Santana wriggle beneath her, Santana's knees bent until she had enough room for Rachel to plant her knees on either side of her head. Rachel sank down slowly, holding the head rest as she let herself settle on Santana's tongue. Santana's hands shot up to Rachel's thighs, her fingers gripping as she began sucking on the girls clit. Rachel rocked back and forth, letting Santana's tongue dip into her before forcing Santana to find her clit again. Rachel leaned back, her hand reaching between Santana's legs, searching with gentle fingers for Santana's clit. Deft fingers touched against the aching bundle of nerves between Santana's parted thighs, and Santana's foot fell to the floor as Rachel rubbed circles around her clit. Santana's back arched involuntarily forcing her face deeper into Rachel, and she felt the familiar contractions of her impending orgasm.

Rachel added pressure at that moment, and Santana's tongue pressed into her stiffly, Santana gripped Rachel's thighs, effectively thrusting her tongue in and out of the tiny girl as she rocked, pushing Santana into frenzy. She felt a squeeze and flutter, her tongue embedded deep enough to feel the gush of Rachel's release flood down Santana's chin. Rachel slid backward, quivering as her hand pressed down on Santana's clit, slipping lower and dipping into her at the height of Santana's climax. Santana came around the tips of Rachel's fingers, shuddering through her orgasm until she was only pulsing around Rachel'sslim digits.

Rachel pulled away, laying flat against the bottom of Santana's stomach. Santana wrapped her arm around Rachel as she pressed her head against Santana's heart. She yawned.

"Are you still high?"

"Hmmm?"

Rachel's voice vibrated against her chest, and she turned upward to face Santana before answering.

"I don't know. I just feel...happy."

Santana nodded, letting the cool air tame the burning flush still tinting her skin.

"You have to sing to me now."

Santana lifted her head to look at Rachel.

"What?"

Rachel sat up and rested her chin on Santana's chest. A smile was growing on her face.

"You said if I smoked with you...you'd sing for me."

Santana rolled her eyes.

Santana sighed a muttered, _Whatever_, and began humming a familiar melody. It transformed into a full song, and Rachel's ear pressed close to Santana's chest as she listened. She could feel Rachel smile as she finished the song, and Santana sighed contently after she let out the last note. They fell asleep that way, nestled in the back seat of her car, peach tendrils of light blinking into the cab of her car.

000 0000 000

Santana woke up freezing. She woke, again close to dawn, to the snoring sounds of Rachel hibernating on her chest and the feeling of goose bumps covering the majority of her naked body. If the air conditioner was still running, her car had been on since whenever they fell asleep together. She nudged Rachel into the inside of the back seat and leaned forward to turn off her car. She tugged on her bra and underwear, pulling her t shirt over her head in the front seat. Rachel rose soon after, dressing and rubbing her eyes before climbing up front beside her.

"We are close... Texas. I'm going to grab a burner cell and call Puck, see how long we have to stay off the grid-"

"We? So I'm invited now?"

Santana smirked.

"Yea I mean, be rude of me to just ditch you in Mexico. Could have done that back in New Jersey."

Rachel shook her head.

"Not funny."

They pulled into a gas station. Santana made quick work of filling her tank before heading back inside to grab a prepaid cell phone. She dialed remembered numbers on the phone as she walked back to her car. Rachel was in the bathroom, freshening up as Santana leaned against her door while the phone rang.

"Yo Puck, is it clear?"

"Santana, is that you? Do you know what time it is?"

She rolled her eyes. Guess it was clear enough. She took a breath to scold the boy- but she was cut off before she could.

"Where the fuck have you been!? Shelby has been blowing up my phone about how she hasn't heard from Rachel in three days!"

"Woah Puckerman! She's still with me, calm yo tits. What happened with the bust?"

"Where are you now, Lopez? And what bust? That bitch Sylvester had the wrong warehouse. Finn's an idiot. He threw smoke bombs off and got us hauled in overnight for resisting arrest. You really think I'd put anything incriminating at the pool supply warehouse? Now where are you and Rachel? Shelby has been up my ass the last couple of days since Rachel texted her about going on a Barbra Streisand spiritual journey."

Santana rolled her eyes.

"So you're telling me, that I'm a few miles off from Mexico, with your sister...for no reason."

Puck let out a sigh.

"Half sister. And not my fault. Called both you guys only to find out you'd ditched your phones. Got Artie to trace the last calls you made and figured out that you could be anywhere by now. Just head back. I'll let Quinn and Brittany know you haven't crossed the border yet."

Santana hung up. She got in her car and threw the burner into the back seat just as Rachel slid in beside her.

"So, we're all clear. Puck got taken in over night, but they didn't find anything."

"So what now?"

Santana shrugged, pulling out of the gas station and turning in the direction they came.

"Santana...you know, what happened between us, can it- well it would be nice if it could stay just between us..."

Santana deflated. Well- it was fun while it lasted.

"Well, you see, it's just not in my character to do things like that and I would rather it not get out that we-"

"It's cool, midget. I understand what a one night stand means."

Santana turned toward the interstate.

Rachel sat forward in her seat, drawing Santana's focus from pulling back onto the main road.

"No, I mean...the smoking part. I just would rather you not tell Noah, or anyone for that matter. The other thing, well, I wouldn't mind that happening again; or more often than that."

Santana looked over at a blushing Rachel, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I can manage that. We still have the drive back... And after the drive back."

Santana smiled as Rachel's hand laced with hers over her gear shift

"Oh and Santana?"

"Yes Rachel?"

"You're buying me a new cell phone."

Santana just nodded, merging onto the interstate.

End.


End file.
